


A Song for You

by forochel



Series: abo!jjp [2]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Lace Panties, M/M, Non-Chronological, Omega Verse, Rimming, Teasing, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-10-04 10:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: 5 times Jaebeom wrote a song about or for Jinyoung & 1 time Jinyoung wrote a song for Jaebeomn.b. not all the chapters will be explicit, so I will label each chapter with its specific rating.





	1. SENSES (E)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is going to be a casually multi-chaptered sequence of ... fics just set in the same verse. I'm basically writing each song-based chapter as and when I feel like it, out of song publication order, but I will finish this at some point! the songs are already all picked out. this is just my happy place for when I need a break from this other Thing that I'm working on. or, you know, crying over videos of hk police brutality.

### 1\. SENSES

Jaebeom has an apology on the tip of his tongue and Jinyoung’s favourite snacks in his hand when he opens his front door.

Both these things fall by the wayside — the snacks, literally — when he looks up from securing the chain.

"I was going to save these for you," Jinyoung says, not taking his eyes off the movie on screen. He pops a strawberry into his mouth and takes far too long sliding his lips back off. "But then you took so long in the studio I got bored and started eating them."

Jaebeom feels simultaneously like his feet have been rooted to the floor of his hyeongwan, and like he could fly over to the sofa in a heartbeat.

"I should never have given you my doorcode," he croaks out, kicking off his shoes. Nora's loafing atop the back of the sofa, giving him a deeply judgmental look.

Jaebeom wonders distantly where his other four monsters are, if Jinyoung has thrown them off the balcony like he keeps threatening to. Jokingly, but still. His concern is a distant thing because right here and now, Jinyoung is stretched out on his sofa, golden skin on display under a sheer, wine-red _thing_ that kisses his chest and is rucked carelessly up over his sharp hips.

Jinyoung's long legs are crossed, all the better to display the pretty package barely contained within floral lace coloured a few shades deeper than Jinyoung's top: a mouth-watering bulge.

Still, a sense of obligation has him asking, “Where are my other babies?” as he advances on Jinyoung.

“Pitched them out the window,” Jinyoung says easily, the corners of his lips curling disingenuously. “You should’ve heard the squeals.”

“I worry about you sometimes,” Jaebeom says, crawling over him. He lifts Nora off her perch and sets her on the coffee table, affectionately running a hand over her torso from head to rump once.

The clink of the strawberry bowl against the glass top of Jaebeom’s coffee table startles Nora, has her making a disgruntled noise and speeding off to the kitchen. Jinyoung’s eyes are dark and meaningfully wide, his mouth set in a pout; he tugs at Jaebeom’s wrist and shifts so that he’s lying on his back. “Pay attention to _me_.”

Jaebeom laughs a little, going with Jinyoung’s tug so he’s hovering over him. He buries his face into the crook of Jinyoung’s neck, drags his mouth up the delicate skin there in exactly the sort of filthy, open-mouthed kiss that’s guaranteed to get Jinyoung squirming under him.

“I’m always paying attention to you,” he promises, licking at the jumping pulse in Jinyoung’s neck, nosing into the hollow behind Jinyoung’s ear. The scent of him always tugs a little at Jaebeom’s gut: that shower-fresh, mossy, sandalwood-y smell so much like tumbling headlong into a bed of ferns. He breathes in, deep. "Even when I don't look like it."

Jinyoung sighs and stretches under him, long and luxurious. The arch of his back, the wave of his body as he settles back into the sofa cushions nudges their hips firmer together.

"Jinyoung-ah," Jaebeom tells him, his voice dipping so low it buzzes in their sternums, pressed together. Jinyoung likes the feeling of it, he knows. "I want to put my mouth all over you."

"Yes," Jinyoung says, eyes dark and demanding. "Yes."

So Jaebeom does: presses his mouth to the dip of his clavicle, scrapes his teeth across the hollow of a shoulder, sucks at one nipple through sheer gauze and then at the other, Jinyoung moaning like a whore, music to his ears. He sits up on his haunches to pull his shirt off, then stands to shove his sweats off, Jinyoung's protests to come back cutting off abruptly as he devours Jaebeom with his eyes when Jaebeom kicks his sweats and boxers away.

He'd feel self-conscious, but Jinyoung is reaching out for him again, pouting around pretty begging words. It's an act, Jaebeom knows this, but he falls willingly anyway.

"Sweetheart," he finds himself murmuring into the searing kiss, groaning the endearment again when Jinyoung wraps his strong thighs around his hips to press them closer, closer. The rub of the lace stretched over Jinyoung's hot, leaking cock is maddening; he can't get enough of it, grinding into Jinyoung with neither rhyme nor reason.

Jinyoung's arms have fallen slack as he arches and whines, their wild humping getting the rough fabric between them slick and slippery; Jaebeom rears up as much as he can to gets his hands around the strong, smooth definition of Jinyoung's upper arms and run them down to circle his wrists.

He squeezes.

Jinyoung gasps, eyes flying open, bucking against him in one hard heave before melting into the sofa.

Jaebeom leans down to kiss a cheek, tender and sure, as he raises Jinyoung's elbows over his head and crosses his wrists for him. Then he stretches up and suckles at the pulse of one wrist gently.

"What," Jinyoung whines, "are you _doing_?"

"Following through," Jaebeom murmurs, and drags his teeth down the straining tendon there, all the way to his elbow, scrapes them over the swell of Jinyoung's bicep.

He presses Jinyoung's wrists into the cushions briefly, a wordless reminder, before planting his hands firmly against the sofa so he can continue kissing his way across the top of Jinyoung's bare shoulders, nudge curiously at the thin lacey strap of the top he's got on, rub his day-old growth of stubble into the hollow of Jinyoung's neck, mouth at the hot skin there like he can taste Jinyoung's scent, spicy musk on his tongue.

"On what?" Jinyoung whimpers out, rolling his head against the cushions and squirming; Jaebeom gets his hands under his ass and forgets to answer.

The lace panties are backless. His fingers slip-slide against bare, slick-wet skin where they curve into the crease of Jinyoung's plush ass.

Jaebeom rumbles out a deep moan as he loses what little hold he had on his mind left, lifts and rolls Jinyoung's hips back and up, folds him over himself so that he can scramble down and — god, Jinyoung always _tastes_ so good: all musky, heady spice. And then there's the plush warmth of his cheeks pressing against Jaebeom's face, the wet slick tightness that yields so promisingly around Jaebeom's tongue, and the _sounds_ of him; his honest moans and broken mewls, and them together: Jaebeom sucking at his rim, panting into his hole, loving the way it seems like Jinyoung's slick is going to soak into his own skin with how much there is on him.

He loses himself in this for a while, the way Jinyoung fills all his senses, surrounds and drowns him.

When Jinyoung's thighs tense under his hands, his whole body stringing tight with tension, Jaebeom backs away.

"_No!"_ Jinyoung cries out, raising his head from where he'd been pressing it back into his cushion for more leverage to grind into Jaebeom's face.

Jaebeom lets his thighs down, kisses the inside of one half-apologetically, placing this hickey strategically over one that's already fading. Jinyoung quivers under his hands, so close to being entirely undone, panting out little moans as his orgasm recedes ungracefully. He likes this, Jaebeom knows from long experience: these little pinpricks of pain as Jaebeom marks his thighs up all over again, sucks kisses to cover fading ones, so that Jinyoung can't cross his legs in public without being reminded of him, without the press and rub of his thighs together getting him a little turned on, a little bit slick.

One day, he's going to be able to _do_ something about it in public when he smells Jinyoung getting that way. He sucks a little harder, visions of sliding his fingers into Jinyoung in a dark corner backstage - getting Jinyoung hungrier and wetter for Jaebeom - making his cock throb harder.

"You," Jinyoung growls, having evidently regained some of his verbal faculties, reaching down for Jaebeom. "Come here."

Jaebeom goes, smiling like a fool, dragged willingly by Jinyoung's fingers tangled in his hair.

"Stop smiling at me like that," orders Jinyoung, and pulls him in to bite punishingly at his mouth, hooks a leg around Jaebeom again to set up a slow, winding, inexorable grind. He kisses the taste of himself out of Jaebeom's mouth, like this, hungry and deep.

"But sweetheart," Jaebeom breathes against Jinyoung's red, swollen lips when they part, reaching down again to palm at his ass, cleave them just so. So that Jinyoung's hole is left exposed, dripping and clenching with need that wrenches itself out of Jinyoung's chest in a moan. "I promised to put my mouth on you."

"Don't sweet-talk me." The tremble in Jinyoung's voice betrays him, as does the thin, high keen that leaves his throat when Jaebeom sets his teeth high into the column of his neck, just over his scent gland, and angles his aching cock into him.

If Jaebeom had thought earlier that burying his face in Jinyoung's ass was bliss, then this ... nothing compares to the initial stretch of Jinyoung around the wide head of his cock, the give of Jinyoung around him before the tight slide home. He would sing with it, if he had enough breath left to; but the dizzying heat of Jinyoung clenching down around Jaebeom's cock as he eases Jinyoung open always, always steals the very breath from his lungs.

He rocks his hips hard into Jinyoung over and over, chasing the sweet bliss of his wet heat, the bite of Jinyoung's fingernails against his back and the way their scents, comingled, settle over them like a duvet, warm and heavy and all-encompassing. Jinyoung is wild, under him: throwing his head back and crying his pleasure, canting his hips up to meet Jaebeom's quickening thrusts.

Jinyoung's cock is still constrained within those panties, swelling and hot and tight against the heft of his balls; Jaebeom squeezes a hand between their bellies to mould his fingers over the whole hot package of Jinyoung, roll and squeeze while he adjusts his angle slightly, so he can fuck up into Jinyoung, fuck him til his cries break and go soundless with overwhelmed pleasure, get him right in the spot that makes him lose all coordination and ripple around Jaebeom, tightening like he's trying to draw Jaebeom deeper.

"Fuck," Jaebeom groans out, hand slipping away to brace himself against crushing Jinyoung, unsure if he's even forming words anymore. "Fuck, baby, you're so, I'm gonna —"

Jinyoung mewls and tightens his thighs around Jaebeom's hips, even as the rest of him has dissolved into pliance. He gasps something, eyes slitting open; there are tears on his lashes. Jaebeom dips to kiss them away, murmurs, "Ye-ah?", dragging the question out, the syllables stretched across his pounding strokes in.

Enlightenment is stolen when Jinyoung seizes up around him and whimpers brokenly, shaking apart with the force of his orgasm; his cock twitches hard and spurts hot and sticky between their bellies, his ass is like a vice around Jaebeom's cock, the deep soaking pulse of him dragging Jaebeom perilously close to the edge.

Jinyoung's hot moans into his ear -- "Ah, ah, a-_aaaaaaaaaaahn_" -- are bettered only by him begging for Jaebeom's knot, in half-gasped, broken syllables, fighting hard to get them out.

With such provocation, Jaebeom cannot resist; he rolls his hips harder, spreads Jinyoung's cheeks more to squeeze the rest of his swelling knot into Jinyoung's fucked out ass. They don't usually do this outside of Jinyoung's heats, but the reasons escape Jaebeom now: when Jinyoung's stretched so obscenely wide around him, his body quaking around the full extent of Jaebeom's girth; when Jinyoung's ah-ah-aaaahns are soft and almost airless in his ear; when Jinyoung's thighs fall apart, weak and trembling.

The wet grip of Jinyoung around the sensitive, swollen base of his cock wrenches the orgasm out of Jaebeom as soon as their bodies seal together with a loud, sucking smack. The force of it plunges him deeper into Jinyoung as his hips seek out more, more, more; punch weak cries out of Jinyoung with every hard grind of his cock as he pulses hot and wet, adds to the mess inside Jinyoung that can't get out.

Jinyoung is gorgeous in his desecration; the way he falls apart again around Jaebeom's knot, the bulge of it pressing mercilessly against his much abused prostate, filling him up. He had told Jaebeom once, right before sinking down on him, that he loves stuffing himself on Jaebeom's knot because it is so big he may but weakly squeeze around it. So Jaebeom pushes him to his limits even now, sitting up on his haunches once his first orgasm is over.

"Ah," Jinyoung pants, eyes squeezing shut when that lodges Jaebeom's cock against _something_ when he pulls Jinyoung firmer into his lap. Onto his knot. "P-_lease_, aaaaaaaaah."

Jaebeom surveys the expanse of him, drinks in how the translucent dress is a hazy red veil that veils nothing: the puffy nubs of his nipples a deep, rosy pink through the gauze; the minutely trembling muscles of his abdomen; the utter ruin that he has made of the pretty wine-coloured panties, now stained white and thoroughly sodden.

Pretty panties that are starting to stretch, as Jinyoung's cock has begun fattening. Again.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" Jaebeom asks; his voice comes out hoarse and low, thick with unending desire. His hips grind like a reflex into Jinyoung, lazy circles that tug just right, building heat low in his gut that threatens anytime to sweep out like wildfire.

"I --" Jinyoung gulps, his ass convulsing weakly around Jaebeom. "I --"

It's so rare to see Jinyoung like this that it gives Jaebeom pause; he must be so, so tired, to have sunk so deep so fast. To have orchestrated this and then turn the reins over to Jaebeom so quickly and subtly that Jaebeom's only just noticed that he took them up at some point.

"Okay, baby," Jaebeom murmurs, and briefly massages at the swollen lace-bundled package pressing into his lower belly, before running the palms of his hands firmly up Jinyoung's abdomen and chest, enjoying the feeling of firm dips and ridges of Jinyoung's muscles through the flimsy gauze of his top. "I'll take care of you."

He rubs the gauze into Jinyoung's nipples, enough of a tease for Jinyoung to start making little begging _uh, uh_ sounds and squirming, torturous with the tight clench of Jinyoung around his knot, before pinching.

The shock of it ripples out: Jinyoung's eyes widen, his lips part, and he cries out whilst pulsing around on Jaebeom violently, forcing more come out of Jaebeom. Jinyoung doesn't seem to stop coming, then, wracked with endless shudders, his cock wet and his ass even wetter: slick and come combined.

The feeling of it all slipping out the tight fit where they are joined, where Jaebeom is still crammed into him, is obscene.

So is the way his beestung lips have parted soundlessly, his eyes gone unseeing, his ass milking Jaebeom without mercy. Jaebeom chokes on his own breath as Jinyoung wrings him dry.

They come down together, panting into each other's necks -- Jaebeom having fallen over at some point atop him.

"Holy," Jaebeom wheezes, biting out a curse when Jinyoung's ass flutters weakly around his softening cock, his sensitive knot. "Fuck. Jinyoungie, is this what, _haaah_, what you wanted?"

Jinyoung's throat clicks when he swallows -- Jaebeom makes an absent note to bring him a glass of water later -- and the throatiness of his voice when he first attempts words makes something viciously satisfied bloom in Jaebeom's belly.

"More," Jinyoung breaths, and moans as some aftershock rolls through him, his cock twitching a little. That has Jaebeom biting at Jinyoung's shoulder; this raw and sensitive, his ass clenching even briefly around Jaebeom is almost painful.

"You want more?" He whispers incredulously.

The vibration of Jinyoung's silent laughter around him is -- Jaebeom whimpers. Hands slide up his hips and sides comfortingly, settle over his spine and the back of his neck.

"No," Jinyoung murmurs, turning his head and nudging their noses together, so that Jaebeom can feel the words against his own lips. "Silly, more than I wanted."

Jaebeom nudges back, drops a sweet, innocent kiss on Jinyoung's lips before drawing back. "Good?"

"Very good." Jinyoung's smile is a small, contained thing of pleasure, his eyes crinkling with contentment. Jaebeom gives into his impulse and presses a fingertip to the corner of his mouth, where his lips curl up like the kitten Jinyoung pretends to be, sometimes.

Jinyoung kisses his fingertip, and laps it into his mouth, tongue curling around, eyes heavy and dark on him. He likes playing this game when they're tied together, likes seeing if Jaebeom will get hard in him again. It's far too late for any of that now, though, and they both have work tomorrow.

Dragging in a breath, Jaebeom takes his finger back and slides it in between them to test their tie. His knot is diminishing, enough that his finger comes back wet with more than just saliva.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he says regretfully. "Sorry."

Jinyoung pouts, but it's mostly for show. His blinks have been growing steadily slower and longer, eyes heavy with impending sleep. Stretching sensuously, he complains, "I sup_pose_," and tries to extract himself from Jaebeom's arms. And knot. It doesn't quite work, not even with the loosened give of his rim; he's too sore to take the stretch.

"I'll bathe you," Jaebeom promises, and shuffles them carefully upright so that Jinyoung is limp in his lap, sprawled over his front and pressing him stickily back into the high leather arm of his sofa. He delicately picks apart the ribbons holding together Jinyoung's utterly ruined panties and peels them off him to a sigh of relief. "Just nap now, okay?"

"Mmmf." Jinyoung mouths something unintelligible at his neck, buries his nose against Jaebeom's scent gland, and then his weight sinks further into Jaebeom as his limbs go truly slack in slumber.

Not the way Jaebeom had thought his night would go, he thinks ruefully, spotting the bag of snacks spilt all over the hyeongwan, but holy fuck. What a thing to come home to.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> if you enjoyed this or idk didn't absolutely loathe it, pls hit that kudos and [give this thing an RT](https://twitter.com/forochel/status/1167973130993750016)! let me know what you thought in the comments below :) writers run on external validation!


	2. Q (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where jinyoung wears jaebeom down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finished up this bit of good old-fashioned omegaverse comedic fluff because I need a break from writing about jaebeom's angst-filled journey of personal growth

### 2\. Q

You play games with me, you confuse me  
You’re not easy, I didn’t even expect it

[...]  
I look at you again and again  
But you burn me up each time  
You grow the flame in my heart  
I don’t know what to do

Youngjae — Yoo, not Choi — used to tease Jaebeom about having a thing for cats.

It's not strictly true, because ... no, these are his _children_, but Jaebeom finds himself being toyed with like prey to a cat, fascinated by and drawn to the kittenish curl to Jinyoung's lips as he watches for Jaebeom's reactions despite himself.

It's not fair, the way Jinyoung presses in close because he _can_, getting his scent all over Jaebeom, and then withdrawing like nothing's happened, like Jaebeom's heart isn't hammering in his chest, like even the hairs on Jaebeom's skin don't yearn after him.

Jaebeom thinks that part of the friction they'd had when they were eighteen was probably because all this had been simmering, awaited and unnamed and unpresented, under Jinyoung's skin, and Jaebeom had had no idea what to do with it.

He still doesn't, even though Jinyoung seems to have settled fully and comfortably into his own skin, into the kind of omega he wants to be. The kind of omega who loves batting Jaebeom's nerves around like nothing so much as a ball of yarn, apparently. The kind of omega who knows exactly what his assets are, and whose sharp eyes and nose miss nothing of what those assets do to Jaebeom, who probably could qualify as a key investor in Daesae's scent inhibitor product line by now.

There are, for example, the times that Jaebeom walks in on Jinyoung on his hands and knees, making eyes at himself in the full-length mirror in his room. The little furrow between his brows smooths away at the same time Jaebeom can feel his jaw dropping at the arch of Jinyoung's back, the provocative tilt of his hips. He's at home, halfway through putting in a delivery order on his phone, and had only thought to ask Jinyoung if he's hungry too.

"I —" Jaebeom swallows hard, gulping down the spit that's started gathering. He needs to go back to his room right now, but he also should make sure Jinyoung is fed and watered. Duty of a leader and a hyung, as is only right. "Uh, J-Jinyoungie, I'm ordering food, Korean-style Chinese. Do you want any?"

Jinyoung turns his head and looks at Jaebeom over his shoulder, which somehow makes his ass tip higher and the hollow in the small of his back deeper.

Jaebeom feels almost like his lungs might stop working. Which might be a blessing, to be hoenst, because Jinyoung's room is saturated in his own smell, obviously, and the vibrant, green ferny heart smell of Jinyoung isn't helping the situation that's arising in his pants.

"Jjampong?"

"Okay." Jaebeom looks down at his phone and tries not to breathe too deeply. "Uh, black sauce or cream sauce?"

He hears Jinyoung hum, low and thoughtful in that honey voice, and keeps his eyes fixed on the app.

"Who're you ordering from?"

"The place with the really good tangsuyuk." Jaebeom chances a glance up and wishes he hadn't; Jinyoung's shifted back to sit on his haunches, but with his knees spread and feet tucked under his ass. He looks consideringly up at Jaebeom, hands between his thighs.

"Cream, please," Jinyoung says, and smiles devastatingly. "Thanks, hyung."

The thing is, it has been beaten into Jaebeom's mind never to presume, to be honourable, to be fully aware of how he could easily, so easily, pin Jinyoung down and -- Jaebeom usually wrenches his thoughts firmly onto another track at this point, afraid of going down a mental path from which there may be no return.

"O-okay," Jaebeom croaks and retreats. "I, um, I'll tell you when the delivery is here. Go back to ... stretching, or whatever."

He thinks he hears Jinyoung laugh quietly when the door hits him on the way out, but Jaebeom's too busy trying to get his dick to calm down to do anything about it.

Other times, Jinyoung's affections are far more innocent but no less affecting.

They're on Shinyoung-noona's radio show, Jinyoung clad in a black blazer that hugs his shoulders and makes him look cutely dangerous, or dangerously cute. The way his hair is swept up and out of his face is supposed to be cool or something, but -- well. Jaebeom finds that he never entirely has his wits around Jinyoung these days, and despairs a little of holding it together when Jinyoung takes the seat next to him.

Next to him, Bambam gives them a dubious look. Well, the look he mostly aims at Jaebeom, who'd even taken the precaution of slapping an inhibitor on himself.

"Jaebeom-hyung, are you ... do you want to switch seats?"

Jaebeom feels his stomach swoop like he's on a rollercoaster. He didn't think he'd been that obvious, and sensible as that would be, he can't quite bring himself to -- Jinyoung's already looking at him, eyes wide and on their way to hurt, when he glances at him.

Swallowing, he looks across Jinyoung at Bambam. "Why would I?"

The pre-show advertisements are still going and mask the high-pitched sound of exasperated disbelief that issues forth from Bambam's mouth.

"Seriously? Okay! Fine!" he exclaims, and slips his headphones entirely over his ears, turning away to pore over the script lying on the table.

Clover and geranium waft by a split-second before he feels Jinyoung's warmth pressed up against his arm. "Jaebeomie-hyung, am I bothering you?"

Jinyoung is speaking in a low murmur, but Jaebeom glances quickly around the table anyway. Everyone is very studiously ignoring them, a smile playing about Shinyoung-noona's mouth as she banters with Jackson from across the table..

"I -- no," Jaebeom says, voice catching in his throat when he looks at Jinyoung. "Why would you be?"

Jinyoung's gaze on him is steady and thoughtful, a warm, knowing gleam in his eyes, and that is almost worse. It's terrifying to be known so well, and even more so when all his helpless fumbling and awkward panic elicits is warm amusement.

"Why indeed," Jinyoung says, and smiles, slipping his headphones fully on at a signal from one of the production assistants. "I'm glad I'm not bothering you, hyung." He presses a little closer, easy and affectionate, before rolling back to his place in front of his microphone on the rebound.

Across the table, Mark is giving Jaebeom the world's most judgmental look. Jackson has a hand over his eyes.

They snap to attention, thankfully, when the opening jingle starts playing and Shinyoung-noona starts reading out their introductory spiel over the jaunty trumpet tune.

And then there are times like this: when Jinyoung isn't even looking at him but teasing relentlessly anyway, flipping through a photobook proof and pointing out every single awkward expression that Jaebeom's made and making up stories behind them. Like at least half of them aren't because of something Jinyoung'd been doing behind the camera.

Jaebeom blows out a long breath and mutters, "If you weren't so cute--"

Jinyoung hears, because he has the ears of a bat when it comes to anything related to him.  
He turns to face Jaebeom, dimpling so hard Jaebeom feels his heart skip a traitorous beat, and says, "You think I'm cute?" in as falsely winsome a tone as is possible on this plane of existence and probably the next three.

Jaebeom closes his eyes and throws an arm over his face for good measure. "You know I do," he mutters, and turns over to bury his face into a soft surface -- any soft surface. It's got the terry-cloth texture of one of Jinyoung's soft toys. He's not sure why he does this, because Jinyoung's smell has permeated the cloth, sleep-sweat mingled with the clean, herbacious scent of him at rest.

"_Hyu~ung_," Jinyoung sing-songs, the bed dipping when he hops onto it. Mischief is evident in the clover of his scent, the way it wafts off him in teasing waves, underlain by something intriguing, a little darker and headier, something that makes Jaebeom want to let go of what good sense he has and bury his face into the join of Jinyoung's hip and thigh, so temptingly close.

Gods, this has been such a mistake: staying to hang out with Jinyoung after talking through a plan of action for the growing tension between the maknae. Yugyeom's previously soothingly childish scent has been going haywire in the past month, has yet to settle, and it's setting Youngjae, usually the most placid alpha to exist on earth, on edge; this, in turn, has been driving Bambam _nuts_. Which has been driving Jaebeom right to the fucking edge.

It's partly why Jaebeom let Jinyoung take him by the elbow and draw him into Jinyoung's little room, despite all of his higher functions telling him this was a bad idea whilst everything else screamed _yes_. Let Jinyoung convince Jaebeom to let _him_ handle this, and then let Jinyoung convince him to stay for a bit and relax, away from all the madness without the four walls of Jinyoung's room.

He entirely forgot, of course, caught in the dizzyingly warm spell of Jinyoung's gaze and smoky voice, that within Jinyoung's sliding door was ... well ... _this_: the twin scents of geranium and lavender light and refreshing, the rich verdant clover at the heart of Jinyoung's scent, and that maddeningly subtle spice curling around the edges, something about it so elusively familiar.

Letting Jinyoung take the lead has rarely boded well for Jaebeom's sanity.

A hand lands in the centre of Jaebeom's back, pressing lightly down as the heat of Jinyoung's body gets closer, amusement warming Jinyoung's voice. "Jaebeomie-hyung, why are you hiding?"

"'m not hiding," Jaebeom says into the soft toy, very much hiding. "'m right here."

The soft toy is tugged out from under Jaebeom's head. He is about to protest when Jinyoung's long, faintly-calloused fingers catch him by the jaw and steal the words from his throat. His face is turned to the side. Jinyoung's expression, when he opens his eyes again, is soft, the warm amusement in his voice mirrored in the relaxation of his cheeks and the curl of his lips, the aegyo-sal spidering out from the corners of his eyes.

Jaebeom has the faintest feeling that somehow, in the past few minutes, without him quite realising, they've slid quite irrevocably over some line.

"Young-ah," Jaebeom starts to say, voice coming out unexpectedly rough and low.

This close, he can see the way Jinyoung's pupils blow out, the bob of Jinyoung's adam's apple, and the sharpening of — fuck, that's desire, isn't it — in Jinyoung's scent.

Jinyoung's voice is like the richest honey, viscous and too, too enticing when he murmurs into the warm, still foot of air between their faces, "What are you thinking, hyung?" His eyes are liquid dark, wide and expectant, the faintest trace of humour still evident in the tilt of his eyebrows.

The problem is that Jaebeom _isn't_ thinking; his head entirely empty of anything but Jinyoung's face so close to his own, and Jinyoung's scent suffusing everything, and Jinyoung's warmth and voice and —

"You," falls out of his mouth, bare honesty entirely unbidden.

The closed pout of Jinyoung's mouth falls open; and the fingers that were loosely curled around Jaebeom's jaw slacken further.

Somehow, it is this unfiltered expression of surprise that galvanises Jaebeom. He knows what to do next.

Jinyoung's hand falls away, still limp with shock, as Jaebeom scrambles up to sit cross-legged; that hand is not left alone for long as Jaebeom takes it and slides their fingers together. He isn't really thinking now either, instinct guiding the way he tugs Jinyoung in gently with their joined hands and slides his free hand up and around to cup the nape of Jinyoung's neck.

"Y - I - _hyung_?" Jinyoung's eyes are wide now, the shock on his face morphing into a kind of fearful confusion that Jaebeom cannot and will not stand.

"What I'm thinking about," Jaebeom says, and cannot help but stroke his thumb up and down against the soft, downy hair over the boney knob behind Jinyoung's ear, "You." Leaning in close, feeling a little like he's leaning into the headwind over a cliff's edge, he tilts Jinyoung's head a little and watches Jinyoung's eyes fall shut, the thick sheaf of his eyelashes fanning out against the pinking tops of his cheeks. "This."

Jinyoung gasps, a small soundless puff of air, when Jaebeom kisses the corner of his mouth, then presses tiny butterfly kisses up to the corner of his eye.

"Wait," Jinyoung pushes him away, only to curl his fingers into the front of Jaebeom's hoodie when acrid embarrassment starts curling in Jaebeom's chest. He realises then that of course Jinyoung can smell him too, all the tiny little nuances in Jaebeom's scent just as Jaebeom can Jinyoung's. "No, hyung, I don't mean -- I just mean, are you serious?"

"Of course," Jaebeom says. They can't go back from this, anyway. Now that he's had a little taste, there is nothing he wouldn't raze for more, nothing he wouldn't do for Jinyoung. "I don't joke about things like this. Don't you want...?"

Something blazes up in Jinyoung's face; the set of his mouth changes into something distinctly, familarly sulky. "Don't I want--? Hyung, I've been _throwing myself at you_ for _years_."

His brain is still not working properly — and how can it be? — so all Jaebeom can say to that is, "You're so cute, Jinyoungie," and put his hands tentatively on Jinyoung's hips.

That makes Jinyoung's face spasm, but he doesn't knock Jaebeom's hands away or tell him to get out and never come back again. Encouraged, Jaebeom tries pulling Jinyoung closer again.

"You," grumbles Jinyoung as he lets himself be pulled in, and closes the last few inches between them by spreading his knees over Jaebeom's lap, "are too much, Jaebeomie-hyung."

The weight of Jinyoung settled over his thighs, so warm and near, sets Jaebeom's skin buzzing, electricity zapping up and down his spine.

"I'm sorry," Jaebeom says, playful and winsome, winding his arms further around Jinyoung's waist so he can hug him in a little closer. "Let me make it up to you?"

Jinyoung slides the hands on Jaebeom's chest up and over his shoulders. There can be no mistaking what they're about to plunge into now, pressed so close together.

"You'd better," Jinyoung says petulantly, and dips down.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> if you enjoyed this or idk didn't absolutely loathe it, pls hit that kudos and [give this thing an RT](https://twitter.com/forochel/status/1193672838814846976)! let me know what you thought in the comments below :)


	3. PAGE (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where jinyoung is a whiny brat (as per) & jaebeom is ... fond. as per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this little chapter has literally been sitting in my gdrive for months ... time to let it gooooooooo

### 3\. PAGE 

  


  


“Hyung,” Jinyoung manages to sound sulky even over the phone. “I got my parts.” 

“Are you in between takes right now?” 

“Don’t derail the conversation,” Jinyoung scolds, and then his teeth audibly chatter. 

Jaebeom sits up to a disgruntled chorus of dislodged cats. “What the fuck, Jinyoungie, you’re going to get pneumonia. Do you have a scarf on you?”

“I have a coat on and a hoodie and _that’s not the point_, hyung.” 

If Jaebeom listens hard enough he can hear the whistle of wind outside, the chatter of HiP’s filming crew, and a girl -- presumably Yeeun -- talking to someone else nearby. There is also the hum of a space heater. He can practically see Jinyoung basically curling himself around it. 

“But a scarf,” Jaebeom persists, “for your throat.” 

“Does it matter anyway,” says Jinyoung petulantly, “when I don’t have any lines in PAGE.”

“I played all of you the demo, you know how the whole song is structured. What it’s supposed to be like.” Jaebeom endeavours not to point out that Jinyoung still has a good portion of the verses to himself. “Don’t you like it?" 

“I like it a lot! I like it so much, Beom-ah , that's why —”

Jaebeom can't help but warm from the inside, despite how bratty Jinyoung is being right now. 

“So you should know why I kept -- the chorus for myself.” 

“And Jackson.” Jinyoung manages to sound even poutier. His lips are going to freeze off in the cold outside at this rate. 

“And Jackson,” Jaebeom sighs. “His voice is -- anyway, my point is --”

He’s interrupted by Jinyoung making a little noise of distress as the wind picks up. He loves how the unconscious sounds that Jinyoung produces sound so small and kittenish, their incongruity with the body and image that Jinyoung likes presenting to the world.

“Are you sure you’ve got enough layers on, Nyoungie?”

“No,” says Jinyoung slightly pathetically. “But it doesn’t matter. What were you saying?” 

Electing to put aside the matter of his boyfriend possibly freezing to death for now — the crew wouldn’t allow their lead actor to expire on set, in any case — Jaebeom softens his voice. 

“I kept the chorus," Jaebeom tells him, "because I wanted to sing it to you, baby.” 

Jinyoung goes so quiet Jaebeom almost checks to see if he's been hung up on, but no -- he can still hear the background bustle of a busy outdoor shoot. 

“Jinyoungie?” 

A long, low sigh is his answer. It echoes oddly, like Jinyoung’s stuck his head in a box or something. Jinyoung’s voice is that particular emotional husk to it when he finally speaks. “Hyung, I’m in the middle of _filming_.” 

Jaebeom laughs and leans back into his pillows, corralling Kunta into his lap with his free hand. “You phoned me, Nyoungie.”

“I regret it now,” Jinyoung says sulkily. “Not if you’re going to be all greasy when I have to be all tragic in about ten minutes.” 

Jaebeom is probably smiling foolishly into the dimness of his bedroom; hearing Jinyoung’s voice today has been an entirely unexpected pleasure. Kunta meows and claws his way up Jaebeom’s t-shirt, trying to get closer to the hand holding Jaebeom’s phone. 

“Ah, Kunta says hi,” Jaebeom says. 

“Hi, Kunta,” Jinyoung coos, voice going smoky sweet. “Bothering your dad, are you?” 

A foreign bark of laughter crackles over the phone, and then the indistinct murmur of voices.

“You have to go soon, don’t you?” 

Jinyoung sounds deeply reluctant when he hums in agreement. “Have to get in character.” 

“Okay,” says Jaebeom. “You’re doing so well, Jinyoungie. I love you.” 

There’s another pause, and then very quietly, Jinyoung says, honeyed like late afternoon sun, “You too, hyung.”

  


* * *

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thx for reading! let me know your thoughts & feelings, hit that kudos & [retweet](https://twitter.com/forochel/status/1216385814965432321) ~


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